Amazing Grace
by Javawolf
Summary: Angel becomes lost between who he is, who he once was, and who he might have been.
1. The Hunt

* * *

Amazing Grace

By: Javawolf

Set after "Sense and Sensitivity".

Season 1. No spoilers.

Rated M: Suitable for mature teenagers

* * *

He'd nearly forgotten how great it felt to hunt. To feel each passing heartbeat echoing in his chest, to stalk his prey, toy with them. People were so predictable. They felt safer because of their precious electricity, staying out later, walking alone. So vulnerable. Now that he'd finally stopped fighting, he remembered what it meant to be a Creature of the Night.

* * *

"He's not down here." Cordelia whinned. "I'm tired of looking for him. I want to go home and go to bed. For all I know he's actually decided to go out and have a little fun tonight. Can we stop now?"

Doyle studied the small basement apartment, examining the entire room for any clues as to what had become of their leader. "He was 'ere a minute ago. We just missed 'im." He said flatly, pushing handfuls of paper around on the bed.

"How do you know?" Cordelia retorted. Doyle didn't answer. She wondered if he had even heard her.

"Doyle?"

"Look at this." Doyle motioned towards the bed. Cordelia crained her neck around his shoulder to get a better look, noticing for the first time that the entire bedroom was littered with crumpled up papers. She reached and grabbed the closest wad off of the pillow.

"Oh my God..."

Doyle got one for himself, intrigued. "What--what's all this?" He turned the paper right-side-up, or maybe it went the other way around...he couldn't be sure. It was a drawing. What it was supposed to be he didn't know. Bored with his sheet, his eyes flirted over to Cordelia's. Her's was easily recognizable as a girl. Very young, perhaps four years-old, naked, bound and gagged. She bore several bruises, or so much as one can tell from pencil work. But the most noticeable detail were the wounds dotted up and down her arms and legs, where his fangs had broken the skin, careful not to drink so much that the girl lost consciousness. He wanted her awake, so he could hear her scream when he bit into her again...and again...

Doyle looked back at his paper, suddenly realizing what it was. Disgusted, he dropped it onto the floor, a small grunt escaping his lungs as he brushed his hands up and down his plaid T-shirt, feeling as though they would never be clean.

"What the hell is goin' on!"

Cordelia re-crumpled the drawing and ran her hands through her hair.

"I think we need to find Angel..."

* * *

"Hey--"

Jesse spun around, nearly knocking the poor guy down. "Oh, I'm sorry! I just-"

"No, it's fine." He straighted himself out. "I—I didn't mean to startle you."

Jesse was at a lost for what to say. She felt herself get warmer, noticing the guy looking her up and down, smiling to himself. Normally she would have considered it incredibly rude, but this guy was really attractive...could it be he was interested? She didn't know how to ask.

"But--um... I just saw you there and--you looked so sad..."

Jesse forced a smile. "Oh, well. Uh--my boyfriend just dumped me for the waitress at the club we went to, and I just--well, you can't get much lower than that."

The guy looked crestfallen. "Oh. Oh, I--I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--I mean I just--umm..." He turned and started to slouch away, but Jesse wasn't about to let him out of her sight.

"No no no, it's okay I--don't go." She grabbed his arm to hold him back, silently wishing to feel the rest of him.

He smiled at her. "Hey, would you--like to go somewhere more...private?"

Jesse couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" The man asked, perplexed.

"No, no...not you, it's just--hot guys ask me out, like, all the time. Not!" She laughed again.

The guy laughed with her. Not a polite laugh, but a genuine laugh, as if he found something truly amusing. "Is that a yes, then?" He asked her, moving in close on her, his hands feeling her out softly. All of a sudden Jesse's legs felt like butter. She let herself slide into his arms, and he leaned in, so that his nose brushed her's. She giggled softly.

"That's a yes." She whispered.

He chuckled to himself. Too easy.

* * *

"Doyle? Doyle! What's wrong, what are you--oh!" Cordelia tried her hardest to run to him before he hit the floor, but this is easier said, then done when one is wearing three -inch pumps. She was relieved when Doyle managed to throw his arm out to catch himself. The poor man shook on the floor for a few long seconds before struggling to his feet.

"Ooooh, for God's sake woman, get me a drink..." He moaned, rubbing his temples. Cordelia handed him a glass of some alcoholic beverage she couldn't pronounce.

"What is it?"

"What, this?" Doyle replied holding his glass up. "Oh, it's SharochLouf. Irish Whiskey."

Cordelia took a moment to comprehend what Doyle obviously wasn't comprehending.

"No! Idiot, the vision!" She waived her hands in the air for emphasis. "What did you see in your vision?"

Doyle stepped back from her, as one would put distance between themselves and a pit bull. After a moment he spoke again, his face grim.

"It's Angel."

Cordelia swatted him lightly across the shoulder. "You waited several minutes to mention that fact!"

She looked at him expectantly. Doyle didn't speak, for fear she would beat him over the head with that whiskey bottle if he said one thing wrong.

"Angel--" Cordelia pressed.

"What? Where?" Doyle glanced around the room, a confused look on his face.

"Dumbass, what's wrong with Angel? Your vision, what's happening to him?"

"Oh--well." He paused, consumed in thought. "There's a girl. Uh--average 'ieght, light brown 'air in a ponytail...Jesse Lodik...23 years-old. She's got 'im."

Cordelia gasped. "Oh my God she's torturing him?" Her face relaxed. "Does he have, like, a sign on his back that says 'Torture Me.'?"

"She's not torturing 'im, Cordelia...she's----she's sticking 'er tongue down 'is throat."

"Oh...and ew."

A moment of silence passed while both Cordelia and Doyle tried very hard to block out the array of mental images that came with those words. Suddenly Cordelia jumped.

"Oh God, Angel's getting some! He's gonna go evil again!"

"Cor, we weren't supposed to save 'im, we were supposed to save the girl."

"What do you mean 'save the girl.'? And you said were...as in, past tense?"

"It's too late...she's dead."

* * *

He felt a buzz. She must have been really drunk. He smelled it on her a block over, that's why he chose her. But of course. She had to have been drunk to waltz off with a complete stranger without even asking his name. Stupid.

He couldn't help but laugh to himself. People. L.A. was swarming with them. It was like one big-ass cookie jar. If cookies could walk, talk and fuck. Oh yeah, and that was the best part. Back in the day you had to hog-tie 'em to do it, but nowadays they'll walk up to you and strip right there. It was paradise, there was so much promise. He looked at the dead girl on the floor, his smile fading.

It hadn't been a hunt. It was too easy. At that moment he realized how far he'd slipped. He'd gone this low? Picking up tramps off the street for a Bone&Bite?

No, he decided. That was just a warm-up. Besides, he told himself, he was so hungry, he couldn't wait while he planned the long, slow ruination of a human being. He'd needed to feed, so he did. But now...now the real fun begins. And his next victim, he smiled to himself as he pictured her in his mind. He'll make her his best work yet.

* * *

"So what are you saying? Angel boned her, got happy, killed her?" Cordelia tried very hard to understand. But the catch there, was that she would only understand what she wanted to understand. She wasn't sure she could accept the fact the sans-soul-boy was back.

"He's not evil, Cordelia." Doyle didn't look up at her, he found a dark spot on the floor that looked interesting and waited for her to hit him again.

"Oh, he's not? Great! So what, he raped and murdered an innocent girl in the interest of fighting for the side of the righteous? Good, I'm relieved."

Doyle raised his head so that his eyes locked with Cordelia's. He noticed her shaking and sighed. He wasn't sure this news would comfort her any more than the idea Angel had turned.

"He's not Angelus. It's--it's Angel. I felt it in my vision, in a way I couldn't describe to you, but I know. He's still got 'is soul, he's just--"

"Lost it?" Cordelia tried a weak smile, but her lower lip trembled. "I have been so terrified that Angelus would come back. After Sunnydale, after--everything. And now--you...you want me to believe that Angel, our _friend_, is a killer again...by **choice**?"

Doyle didn't answer, he went back to examining the brown spot on the floor. He almost didn't want to believe it either, but he knew. He'd felt it. He took another swig from his flask and sighed.

Cordelia stood up tall, squaring her shoulders. "Well, we have to stop him."

* * *

He knocked softly on the door, and a moment later she was standing in it, looking beautiful, and more than a little surprised.

"Angel--what are you doing here?"

"I just-I just wanted to see you." He smiled sheepishly and scuffed his toe.

"Oh--uh..."

"Can I come in?"

She studied him for a moment before stepping aside.

"Yeah sure, come on in."

* * *

"How are we goin' to find 'im?" Doyle asked as Cordelia started her car. "Do you know where he'll be 'eaded?"

Cordelia pushed the gas to the floor. "I have a pretty good idea." She said through gritted teeth.

Doyle stared at her for a moment, taking note of her great posturing. "Yeah, well...I'm very impressed by the dramatic integrity you gave that statement, but I'm still no better off now than I was a second ago, so something a bit more informative would be appreciated."

The look Cordelia gave him at that moment could have killed any normal man, Doyle was sure. Or a coward...but since he considered himself neither, he lived to tell the tale. Cordelia went back to watching the road.

"We're going to Sunnydale. Last time Angel went psycho, he targeted Buffy. He bent over backwards to make her life as miserable as he possibly could, before even trying to kill her. Since his soul was restored before he could kill her the last time, I bet he'll be wanting to finish it. That's where he'll be headed." Cordelia's serious I-Know-What-I'm-Talking-About-Look faded. "Sucks for Buffy, but we should get there before the serious torturing starts."

Doyle fidgeted in his seat. "Well, that's all fine and dandy there, Princess...but allow me to point out yet again for the record...it's not Angelus. We can't know that 'e'll--"

"You don't know! You never--" Cordelia snapped on him hard, but seemed to regain a certain amount of control in mid-sentence. She sniffled and wiped her eyes. Doyle handed her his hankerchief. She took it, examined it, and handed it back. "Thanks but...I'm okay. I just wanna wake up, you know?"

Doyle nodded. Yeah...he knew...

* * *

A few hours later, they pulled into Buffy Summer's driveway, just as the sun was coming up.

They knocked on the door, and a moment later Buffy stood there in her pajamas, a blank look on her face.

"Cordelia?" She eyed Doyle, who seemed to be trying not to lock eyes with her, as she wouldn't exactly qualify as being dressed.

"Who are you?" Buffy asked.

Cordelia waved her hand in Buffy's face. "That's not the issue. Where's Angel?"

Buffy stared at her. "What? I dunno, it's not like he and I talk."

Cordelia moved closer, towering over little Buffy in her heels. "I am not playing games with you Buffy Summers. We're not in High School anymore, and I'm not taking any of your crap. Where is he?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "You had better get out of my face, Cordelia."

Cordelia sighed impatiently. "Look, I know you're still pissed at him for taking off, but we really don't have time for your issues. We're not gonna sit down and talk. We need Angel, so tell us where he is."

"He's not here." She said flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. Cordelia and Doyle took a moment to digest that.

"You let 'im leave!" Doyle grilled her.

"What! No. I haven't seen him. He hasn't been by here." Buffy watched the two exchange confused glances, and then turn to leave.

"Cordelia, what's going on?"

Cordelia didn't answer. Buffy stood there with the door open, watching them get into the car and sit there looking utterly stupefied. She sighed. "Ugh...whatever..." And closed the door.

"I don't understand." Cordy whispered to no one in particular. "He would want to kill the person Angel cared the most for. He's screwed up that way. But if it's not Buffy...who is he after?"

* * *

She rolled over in bed and wrapped her arms around Angel's midsection.

"Jeez, did I hog all the blankets?"

He opened his eyes sleepily, and smiled up at her. "Mmm...good morning."

"Good morning." Kate replied.


	2. Reflections

Amazing Grace

Chapter 2

* * *

"Do you take cream and sugar?"

Angel looked up at her with a smile. "No thanks, just black."

Kate couldn't help but smile back. She'd finally done it. She'd won him. He was her's and no one else's. They would be happy for the rest of their lives. _Okay Lockley_, she thought to herself. _You're fantasizing now_.

She handed Angel his coffee. "You've hardly touched your pancakes...are they gross? Tell me, really...'cause I know I'm not the best cook and I somehow manage to mess everything up."

Angel laughed. "No, no. They're great. I'm just not that hungry."

The thought made him want to kill her right then and there, after all, he'd only fed once in two days... But she wasn't ready. He needed to ripen her up first. He pushed the thought out of his mind.

"There you go again, Kate! You're too hard on yourself, you know that?"

Kate blushed. She didn't know why she kept doing that. She was just getting used to the sudden change she supposed. Somehow, she'd always known that she turned him on, women are experts at body language after all. But he just didn't seem like the kind of guy who would be in a serious relationship. Now that they'd slept together things were different. Somehow, he seemed like a different person.

"Umm...Kate?"

"Yeah?" she answered, putting her coffee mug in the sink before turning to face Angel. He was very absorbed in his fingernails it seemed, and she smiled to herself.

"What happened...between us last night..."

Her smile faded. He wouldn't. It can't be...

"I might have been a little bit drunk..."

_That part's true_, he thought. _That girl must've had a lot of alcohol in her system_. He didn't show his thoughts on his face, but continued to play for the crowd.

"I didn't mean for it to happen."

Kate felt a lump rising in her throat. "What?" She asked him, her voice barely above a whisper.

Angel sighed. "I just--oh God, this is harder than I..." He trailed off, still not making eye contact with her.

Kate's vision blurred with silent tears. He'd been drunk. The time they'd spent together meant absolutely nothing to him. Why hadn't she seen it coming? She hadn't braced herself for this.

"I can't be with you, Kate." Angel tried to sound sympathetic.

Kate's sadness quickly boiled over into anger. "So, what? You went out to party with your little gang of side-kicks, had a few drinks, and thought it would be fun to use me for one night?"

"Kate, it's not--"

"Oh, you bet your ass it is! Did last night mean anything to you?" At those words Angel stood up and looked Kate in the eyes.

"No."

"What?" Kate's anger melted back into sadness, almost despair. He wasn't supposed to say that. "But...why?"

"Because I wasn't even there!" Angel shouted. "Do you think I could've stomached it if I weren't zoned out? I felt nothing."

"Why are you doing this?" She squeaked, her voice cracking. "I thought--"

"Yeah. See where thinking gets you?" Angel grabbed his shoes off of a chair and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. Walking down the hallway, he grinned at the sound of Kate sobbing on the floor.

He'd cracked her emotionally. After a good feed, he'd be back. He was simply jonesing to get physical.

* * *

Several hours later.

"I'm out of ideas. He could be anywhere." Cordelia threw herself onto the couch the second she walked into the office, Doyle was just a step behind. "For all I know he's on his way here now to deal with us."

At those words they both looked cautiously around the office, and Doyle opened the blinds, allowing bright glorious sunlight to flood the room, before sitting up on top of Cordelia's desk.

"It's weird..." she said from over on the couch. "...not having Angel moaping around. The way he pretends to read his stuffy books, just to avoid having to talk to anyone."

Doyle smiled at that. He knew all too well. "The way he downs a cuppa coffee every morning, just in an attempt to be more social." Doyle added. Cordelia snorted.

"Yeah! And how he's always playing with the weapons--"

"Messing with 'is hair--"

"Fiddling with his pencil--"

"Singing Barry Manilow--"

"Brooding!" They both said at once, instantly falling into a fit of laughter. When their giggles had ceased they both sat in silence for awhile before Cordelia spoke again.

"He's a good guy."

Doyle nodded. Then, he suddenly noticed, for the first time, that there was a message on the answering machine. "Hey look." He pressed play.

_Angel? Angel are you there? _

Kate's voice shook, or maybe her hands were shaking holding the phone. It was hard to tell.

_Please, Angel if you're there...we need to talk. I'm not trying to pull you back into a situation or anything, but I'm sorry for freaking out on you this morning, and I just want to--_

Doyle turned it off, staring first at the machine, then at Cordelia. "It's Detective Lockley..."

"She's his next victim." Cordelia jumped off the couch and pulled her keys out of her pocket. "If we hurry, we might be able to save her!" She bolted out the door.

Doyle grabbed a stake that was sitting on top of the water-cooler, and quickly followed her out.

* * *

God, day-hunting was a major pain in the ass. There wasn't really any place to hide the bodies except in the sewers, and good luck lugging a dead body into the sewers without being noticed. The way he figured, he would have an easier time hiding something small. He grinned ear to ear when he saw the little girl walk into the fudgery. He followed, careful to stay in the shadows.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped out of the alley, wiping the last traces of blood off his mouth. Angel stood against the brick wall and watched the shadows get longer and longer. The sun was setting. Time to get back to his lover, he didn't want to make her worry.

* * *

Cordelia and Doyle burst through the door and scanned the room, finding only Kate, sitting by the phone with a box of tissues.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" She tried to sound angry, but her face reflected only sorrow.

Cordelia walked over and knelt beside her. "He left you?" Kate nodded, stifling a sob.

"Step one." Cordelia muttered. "Do you know where he went?"

"I'm right here."

Cordelia spun around to see Angel standing just inside the door, holding Doyle by the throat. Doyle had dropped his stake. Cordelia moved to pick it up, but Angel held Doyle tighter.

"Any closer I'll break his neck." He sneered. Cordy retreated back to the table.

"Yeah, thought so." Angel taunted. "I figured you wouldn't try. You probably couldn't save him anyway. Why'd you even bother coming here? Did you really think you could stop me? You'll never be worth anything. Even in Sunnydale no one liked you. I have it on good authority, that there was once a 'We Hate Cordelia' Club. And can you guess who was treasurer of said club? Xander Harris." Angel laughed at Cordelia's hurt expression. "Oh yeah!" He continued. "Even your boyfriend couldn't stand you. Who saw that one coming, huh?"

At that moment Kate pulled a gun out from the bread cabinet that sat on the table, and fired a bullet through Angel's chest, but he didn't release his grip on Doyle.

"Aah, fuck!" He shouted. After he'd regained himself he glared at her. "You'll pay for that." He said through gritted teeth.

Kate blinked, and then fired the last five bullets at Angel, still he didn't let go of Doyle.

"Shit!" Angel screamed. "Give it up, that really hurts!"

Kate sunk back into her chair, staring blankly at the gun she held in her hand.

Angel laughed. "What did you say this morning? Uh...damn, what was it...oh right! 'I somehow manage to mess everything up.'? Seriously, you can't even fire a gun. Some cop you turned out to be."

Kate looked up at Angel, looking him straight in the eye.

"Yup. You know it's true don't you, Kate?" Angel teased. "You've never been good enough for anyone, not even your own father. Man...I wonder what he's gonna think." He cocked his head to one side. "Hey, do you suppose he'll miss you? Or do you think he'll just forget about you? I'm really curious. Cause I mean, wow. You two really hit it off there at his retirement party didn't you?"

He sighed. "Huh..tough crowd."

"Shut up you prick."

Angel's eyes focused on Cordelia. "Whoa." He pretended to be intimidated. "That was scary."

"I'm a whole lot scarier with a stake. Pointy wood. It does things to a vampire. Mostly death type things."

Angel chuckled. "Right, so come over here and get your stake then."

Cordelia smirked. "Oh, I don't need that one." She pulled a second stake from her purse. "I brought my own." She brandished it at him. "Honestly, you really think I'd EVER leave my apartment without one?" Cordelia raised the stake, ready to strike.

"I'll kill him!" Angel shouted, gripping Doyle's neck tighter. "You move and I'll kill him!"

"No you won't."

He stared at her. "What the hell do you mean, 'No I won't.'?"

Cordelia took a step forward. "It's what Doyle's been telling me. You aren't Angelus."

Angel didn't say anything. His eyes were blank and unfocused, and he was visibly shaking.

Cordelia moved closer and raised her hand to wipe the tears from his face.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" He screamed.

"Angel--"

"No--" Angel shook his head, his eyes closed tight.

"Yes. Angel. Come back." Cordelia tried to hold him, but he pushed her roughly away and backed against the wall.

"I'll kill him!" Angel shouted as he raised Doyle off the ground.

Doyle struggled to breathe, but couldn't.

"I'll kill him!" Angel repeated desperately, his voice breaking.

Cordelia backed away. "Then kill him."

Angel's eyes suddenly focused on Cordelia, as if seeing her for the first time. He dropped Doyle on the floor, and took several steps back.

Cordelia ran to Doyle and helped him sit up as he gasped desperately for air.

Angel stood motionless for a long time, his face lacking any sign of emotion. But his eyes screamed.

He swayed off balance and fell to his knees. "Oh God..." His weight fell on his hands and he gagged and vomited, his head hanging limply between his shoulders.

Cordelia didn't dare try to approach him yet.

"Are you okay?" She asked Doyle. He nodded, but couldn't speak.. Cordelia snapped her fingers.

"Oh! Water! You should drink some water." She stood up, but Doyle pulled her back down, and pulled a small vile out of his jacket pocket.

"You want me to put this in your water?"

Doyle shook his head, and pointed at Kate, who hadn't moved.

"Oh." Cordelia stood again and went into the kitchen, returning a moment later with two glasses. One filled with tap water, the other filled with oddly pink-colored water. The pink glass she gave to Kate.

Doyle took a sip of his water and grimaced, rubbing his throat. "Thank you." He whispered to Cordelia, his voice raspy.

"What was in the vile?" She asked him.

"A memory potion. When she wakes up tomorrow morning, she won't remember anything that's 'appened in the past 48 'ours."

"Oh...good thinking. Where'd you get it?"

"I know a guy." He joked and smiled weakly to back himself up. "We should get 'er to bed, the sedative should be workin'."

Cordelia shot an unsure look in Angel's direction. He had crawled over to the couch and was leaning against it, staring at the floor. Cordelia shivered. To her, it looked almost like he was dead, not breathing with his eyes all blank like that.

Doyle put a hand on her shoulder. "He'll be fine for five minutes. Kate on the other 'and is gonna pass out before then."

Cordelia nodded. They stood up, and each took one of Kate's arms to throw over their shoulder. They managed to get her down on the bed before she fell asleep.

Walking back into the living room of the apartment, Cordelia gasped when she noticed Angel was missing from her 'dead-guy-against-couch' scene. Panicking, she scanned the room, to find that she had walked right past him at the other end of the room. He was facing the wall about 12 feet away, his back to her.

"Angel...?" Cordelia ventured. He didn't answer.

Doyle walked slowly towards him, in spite of Cordelia's frantic whispering, "Doyle, no! Don't be stupid!"

Doyle ignored her and kept walking. He stopped abruptly when he was shoulder to shoulder with Angel.

Cordelia, whose curiosity was killing her, walked briskly behind Doyle to see what they were looking at.

In front of them, hanging on the wall, was a large square mirror. Obviously an antique, Cordelia wondered why she hadn't noticed it before.

And in this mirror was Doyle's reflection. Behind Doyle, just at his left shoulder was Cordelia.

Cordelia scoffed. She wasn't surprised that Angel's own reflection seemed to have been stolen, but it was funny, how even though she was behind the two of them, with her head peaking up between their shoulders, the mirror showed the entire half of her body that Doyle wasn't blocking. As though Angel weren't even there at all...

Angel turned away, as if seeing his friends' reflections somehow proved to him that the mirror wasn't malfunctioning, he just simply wasn't worth being shown in it's glass.

He seemed to have frozen again, and Doyle was fidgeting on his feet, wanting to prod Angel with something to make sure he was awake, but Angel moved on his own. Without looking back at them, he walked solemnly out the front door, leaving the apartment and turning down the hall. Cordelia and Doyle exchanged glances before following closely behind him.

Angel lead them to Cordelia's car, and got into the back silently.

It was a quiet drive back to the office. Doyle would look back to check on Angel every once in a while, each time seeing Angel looking attentively out the window, oblivious to anything else.

When they arrived, Angel walked immediatly onto his lift and began lowering into the basement. Doyle and Cordelia took the stairs. They wanted to watch him, they did NOT want to get onto an elevator with him.

They made it down about the same time Angel was stepping out of the lift. He didn't seem surprised they had followed him. He didn't even seem to have noticed. He walked into the bedroom, stepping on the crumpled drawings that littered the floor. He picked one up and opened it, examining it for several minutes before getting on his knees and pushing them all into a large pile, and then shoving them into a trash bag, which he set down by the fireplace apparently deciding to wait until later to deal with them.

Then Angel went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth...several times.

Doyle figured he knew why. Cordelia looked puzzled, but turned to Doyle. "Are my teeth okay?"

She asked him, flashing a huge fake smile. Doyle grinned. "Dazzling, Princess."

Angel came out of the bathroom, taking his shirt off, and shrugging a robe on over his pants, before turning and facing them for the first time, giving them a look that said 'You can go now.'

Cordelia nodded and started towards the elevator. But Doyle didn't move.

"Hey man, you okay?" He asked. Angel didn't reply, but turned and walked into his bedroom, closing the double doors behind him.


	3. Understanding

Amazing Grace

Chapter 3

* * *

He woke up hungry. And that feeling alone made him sick to his stomach. It was too much to take in.

He'd killed a little girl... Oh God ...she was someone's baby...

He closed his eyes and tried to fight off the urge to vomit again. After a few moments of meditation, he got out of bed and walked into his small kitchen.

Doyle was asleep in a chair by the table, next to several empty bottles. Angel didn't wake him. He didn't feel like sharing his feelings right now.

He took a small pot off the shelf above the stove and filled it with water, then set it on the burner.

Letting it heat up, he rummaged through the fridge for a jar of blood, but found to his dismay, that all he had were the little plastic bags.

"Damn it..." He mumbled.

A small grunt of a laugh made Angel start. Doyle continued to chuckle.

"You know, after everything, it's funny that the first thing I 'ear come out of your mouth, is 'Damn it.'" He shook his head, trying to hide a smile.

"Good to 'ave you back though."

Angel ignored him, and searched the shelves for something suitable to heat his breakfast in.

Doyle sighed. "Sooner or later you're gonna 'ave to tell me, you know." Angel closed his eyes again, and tried to pretend everything was perfectly fine.

"Here," Doyle offered an empty bottle to Angel. "Use this."

"What was it?"

"Scotch." Doyle pushed the bottle in Angel's face. "Good year." He tried.

Angel shrugged and took it. He grabbed a bag from the refrigerator, tore it open with his teeth, and poured it's contents carefully into the bottle.

"Whatever small amount of alcohol was left in there," He said setting it into the hot water on the stove. "I'm thankful for it."

Doyle nodded understandingly. "So tell me stuff." He pressed, opening another bottle and setting his feet up on the table. Angel gave him a disapproving look.

Doyle chuckled. "Make me." He took a swig.

"Why do you do that?" Angel asked, leaning against the counter.

"Cause you don't make that funny expression when I behave." Doyle replied fondly.

Angel shook his head. "That's not what I mean."

Doyle's grin faded a bit.

"Oh, you mean--" He raised his liquor bottle, forcing a chuckle. Angel waited patiently. Doyle sighed. "I find it...comforting. It 'elps with things. You know, bad things--they go away for a while."

Angel turned around to check if the blood was warm yet. He had a cryptic answer, and he didn't get the sense that Doyle wanted to talk about it.

"And that was a very clever maneuver to change the subject, by the way, but I'm still waiting." Doyle sipped his drink again, his eyes locked on Angel, who was busy trying to get his blood out of the pot without burning himself.

Doyle stood, and easily picked it up and set it on the counter. "You wuss." He joked. Angel smiled.

"Says the boy hostage." Immediately he wished he hadn't said anything. "Doyle I...I'm sorry..."

Doyle shook his head. "No. We 'ave to talk about it."

Angel grabbed his blood off the counter and sunk into a chair. "What is there to say?"

Doyle sat down next to him. "I know it was you."

Angel looked up at him, eyes wide.

"How?"

"I 'ad a vision. When you killed that woman. Jesse."

Angel shuddered. "I didn't know..."

"Know what?" Doyle asked, confused. Why did Angel have to keep changing the subject?

"Her name. She never told me her name." He looked intently at the bottle of blood in his hand, and set it down on the table, pushing it as far away from himself as he could without more effort then he felt like making. Doyle pushed it back.

"Oh no Bud, you gotta eat." Angel reluctantly took a sip, coughing in an attempt to swallow. Doyle slapped his back, and continued speaking.

"So, yeah. I know it was you, what I'm not clear on is..." He trailed off. Angel looked expectantly at him.

"What?"

Doyle studied him. "Why?"

Angel didn't say anything for a long time. It wasn't that he didn't know the answer, it was just that he didn't know how to explain it. This, he told Doyle, but Doyle's only response was to take another swig from his drink and wait for an answer. Angel sighed.

"I think--I think I've fallen in love with someone...again." He rolled his eyes at that last word. Doyle didn't speak, he simply continued to watch Angel, and wait. Angel continued with effort.

"I think I love Kate..." Doyle nodded. This he knew. Still, he remained quiet. Several minutes passed before Angel spoke again.

"I thought I'd gotten passed it, managed to bury it somewhere inside, you know?" Again Doyle nodded.

Angel continued. "But then there was that damn spell! And...I held her--and..." He trailed off.

For a while niether of them said anything. Angel drained the bottle, ran his finger along the inside, and licked it clean. Somehow he was both pleased and revolted at the same time. After a moment he went on.

"When the spell wore off, I couldn't get back...to not feeling anything. I got lost. I knew if Kate ever found out about--" He laughed weakly. "--me..."

He continued to laugh very quietly.

Doyle narrowed his eyes. It was almost worrying.

"I hate it... Love, I mean." Angel stopped laughing. "I guess I'm just not meant to have it..."

Doyle regretted bringing up the topic. "Angel man, you should probably lie down..." Angel started laughing again, obviously finding something incredibly funny.

Doyle was at a loss. "You--you don't look all together well..."

Angel continued to chuckle at his own private joke.

"No. No, I guess I'm not, huh?"

Doyle rised cautiously out of his chair. "Angel, you stay 'ere, I'll be back in a minute." He walked into the living room and picked up the phone. He needed Cordy here, now. Something was very wrong with Angel. He managed to put four digits into the phone before Angel shot into the room and slammed it back onto the receiver.

"Don't. I don't want her here." Doyle spun around.

Terror surged through him at the sight of his friend.

Angel had changed. This was bad. "She can't be here..." Angel continued. "It isn't safe."

Doyle backed away as Angel moved forward, so that the distance between them didn't change. Doyle knew he would eventually hit a wall. Then he'd be in trouble.

"Angel man, listen to me! You gotta snap outta this!" Angel shook his head sadly.

"I've tried. I can't."

"You can. Oh God, Angel you 'ave to."

"I'm sorry." Angel had Doyle backed into a corner.

He was very close now.

"Angel. What's 'appening to you?"

Angel laughed again, loudly this time.

"Nothing! Nothing's happening! Nothing ever happens, nothing changes!" He waved his arms in the air, trying to catch something only he could see.

Oh fuck. Doyle thought. He's cracking up.

"I've lost something..." Angel mumbled, still feeling out the air around him. "I've lost something and now I can't find it--I can't FIND IT!" He screamed the last words for the world to hear.

Doyle took a step away from the wall. Angel didn't notice. His eyes were blank, unseeing.

"It's there, Angel. Do you see it? Your soul? You can't find your soul? It's there. It's there or you wouldn't be looking for it. It isn't lost, Angel. Can't you see it?" Doyle whispered each word soothingly, trying to pull Angel back. "It isn't lost. You're not lost. You've just forgotten who you are. Don't you see it?"

Angel stifled a sob. "I tried looking for it. Last night...there was nothing..."

Realization hit Doyle so hard he nearly fell. "The mirror...you were--" He didn't know what to do. There was no convincing Angel that he wasn't evil. He believed it was true. There was no way of showing him, he couldn't even see his own reflection.

"No...no I guess you can't see it." Doyle walked closer. "But you can feel it. Angelus wouldn't be this torn up, he'd be out painting the streets red--"

"I am Angelus." Angel interrupted. He'd reverted back to human form, and was sitting on the couch. He seemed to have gotten a grip on himself.

"That's what you don't understand. When I was turned, I felt no different. I simply knew the power I had. I was evil because I chose to be. Other vampires kill to survive. I killed because I thought it was funny." He shook his head solemnly. "It was all so terribly funny."

"You were different then." Doyle persisted.

"No!" Angel shouted. "Shut up and listen, damn it! That's what I'm trying to tell you! It's still me here! What, you think cause some gypsies shoved a soul down my throat, I was magically changed into a good guy? A champion of the people?" He scoffed.

"No. I didn't want to, I could have gone on maiming and killing and never given it another thought, and I tried! I wanted to go on with Darla and Dru and Spike. I fought to be evil again. My curse is that I can't. It doesn't mean I don't want to." He sighed miserably. "The soul that blesses me, damns me to suffer forever."

Doyle breathed deeply, trying to understand, but the fact was he couldn't. Angel knew that. Angel had always known that. Maybe that was why he was so angry. He wanted someone to understand. He wanted Kate to understand. He wanted Kate to love him. All of him. But it would never happen. It couldn't.

There was no changing that.

Doyle walked over and sat down next to Angel. He didn't understand, but somehow he knew. Knowing and understanding are two very different things, but he had an idea.

"Well, bud. I guess all you needed to do, was come to terms with that fact. That's all you can do, you know." Doyle paused, and a faint, almost invisible smile was trying to sneak across his face.

"You were lost, but now you're found." He took a swig from his liquor bottle. "You were blind..."

He trailed off, and offered Angel the drink. Angel drank greedily, and sighed.

"But now I see."

* * *

END 


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